And oh,
If I could explain the tears,
that sometimes dwell next
to my eyes
I'd fear
that I'd have nothing
to tell you.
I do not cry
for peace, nor out
of terror.
I do not cry
because of pain, nor
of jubilee.

So I tell you
that my eyes, they
are dry.

Now, leave me alone,
to my work,
to my self,
that I may be occupied
with important matters,
and,
that my loneliness
would not be seen,
that my broken heart
would not show itself
any longer.